


♥

by thethrillof



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethrillof/pseuds/thethrillof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's <i>you.</i></p><p>...</p>
            </blockquote>





	♥

On the way to and from mom’s new school, there’s a garden full of buttercups.

You taste bitterness and copper every time you walk past, and you make sure to cross the street, even if you need to cross back once you actually get to where you need to be.

* * *

 Asgore holds you in his arms. They feel like a fortress, unbreakable and unshakable.

You’ve seen them fall to dust with the rest of him.

You’ve seen them fall limp on his bed as he recovers after eating poison, every last bite, just to make his children happy.

You bury your face into the fur of his arms when the tears escape--are released from your burning eyes, and he doesn’t ask questions. Dad simply rocks you until you cry yourself to sleep.

* * *

You’ve always loved music, but you’ve never learned to play anything. Undyne keeps volunteering to teach you piano, but that doesn’t seem like the safest bet. Alphys suggests you look at the music room after classes, and you do.

You mess with chimes, the triangle. You want to use some other stuff, but most instruments there are the kind you need to put to your mouth, and that’s a little too gross even for you.

The piano is shoved in the back of the room. You plink out the scale and think about what your homework is, and visiting your friends.

You imagine the sound of water, and you realize you’re playing a song. You’ve always had a good ear for tunes.

You smile, ‘cause you know it’s one your parents used to hum together.

The song ends. You remember where you are.

You decide you don’t want to learn how to play music yet.

* * *

You stomp on every golden flower you see.

They killed you over and over and over and over and over and over.

They didn’t kill Asriel, but everyone else thinks they did.

You grind them into the dirt until they’re mush, and you wish--

\--you don’t look back at the mess you’ve made.

* * *

You don’t feel like drawing pictures on the sidewalk with chalk with the rest of the neighborhood, but you watch.

You’re still friends with that one monster kid you met, and you can’t resist when you’re offered the white stick, pleaded to draw Papyrus, because yo, having no arms can stink sometimes,  you know?

So you do. It’s more fun than you expected, so you end up drawing Papyrus and Sans, and Toriel, since you can see her, and she’s mom, and Dad, even if he’s not as close to her as Sans and Papyrus were made.

You wear the stick of chalk to half of what it was before you notice how much of it is on your hands.

You need to run to the bathroom to get sick, and then desperately wash it off until your skin’s raw and red. Raw and red is better than white, the white of fur dissolving into the dust every monster becomes in the end, dust he shouldn’t have become so early it’s your fault and you left him behind _you left him_ \--

Once you’re done, the mirror shows what it always does.

Shaking, ill, afraid, it's still you.


End file.
